


Reverse Prose

by inkstrain (orphan_account)



Category: the GazettE
Genre: Angst, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 10:57:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5414282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/inkstrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poetry in disguise, or so it seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reverse Prose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [miya_sugar_star](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miya_sugar_star/gifts).



_The strands crack between Kouyou's fingers as he pushes his tresses away from his face, hairspray crunching underneath a carding touch, his digits murmuring softly under the street lights zooming past - bright sentinels, watchful and unmoving, leading them right through some kind of conclusion. Sometimes it feels like they're flying when Akira goes as fast as he does, driving his car just right under the speed limit, and the asphalt becomes a never ending stretch of starless sky that goes on, and on, and on. With the window down and the wind whipping through their unbound hair, they're young again or so it seems, and the ache in his chest almost disappears._

Almost. 

  


Kouyou.

_Akira's voice is like ingredients in a spoon, carefully measured, but it's also soothing just like his arms always are during the rare times Kouyou gets to be encased in them. Turning to his best friend from his position on the passenger's seat with nearly half his body hanging out the window, he grins widely before laughing when the other's calm tone breaks, the exasperation peeking through._

Put your head back inside the car, please. 

_But Kouyou ignores him and extends his arm instead, outstretched now and_ reaching _\- for what, Akira isn't sure. Then again, his best friend has always been a bit difficult to understand, his depth unfathomable even to someone who has known him for many years. Sighing and shaking his head, he blindly reaches for the other's collar, yanking a resisting body back inside the confines of their borrowed pickup truck._

You're such a fucking buzz kill, Akira!

_And he laughs as the other frowns at him with a fist to his shoulder, nodding forward and towards the end in sight, a stretch of public beach illuminated by a yellow half moon, all theirs for a short span of hours._

We're here, you can hang outside all you want after I park. 

_And they fold the ends of their jeans until their knees as soon as they take off socks and shoes and exit the car, the soles of their feet sinking on warm sand as they wait for the waves to crash against their bare ankles. They're mostly silent as the cool water hits their skin, and it takes a few minutes before Akira finally takes his hand. They don't look at each other or say anything though, letting their callouses do all the work: fingers absently twining and abashedly mumbling still unspoken confessions hidden behind the guise of friendship._

  


This is nice. 

_Kouyou turns his head, looking at the other with a soft smile, Akira who has his gaze straight ahead, lifting a barely there eyebrow and giving the hand in his a tug._ Just nice?

_His question is met by a pause, a long one, and then those eyes are on him, Akira turning his entire body completely to be able to face him, head tilted in question._

What word would you use? _Kouyou's smile widens just a bit, his lips quirked on one corner like he's amused, tugging again and harder until they're chest to chest, faces so close that their noses are touching._

Poetry. 

_Akira's own eyebrow shoots up, a soft laugh bubbling out of his throat as his free hand comes up, palm rubbing at his arm in an up and down motion._ Poetry? Why?

_And he closes his eyes at the caress, melting in it as those individual hands become arms that embrace him around the waist, cradling him tenderly in ways another man shouldn't, leaning forward to press his lips against a cold cheek._

Don't you know? Poetry is everything beautiful and graceful. _He replies, eyelashes fluttering as those lids open to give him his sight back, staring at those searching eyes and wondering what it's looking for._

So you're beautiful. And I'm graceful. 

_Kouyou's fist connects with Akira's shoulder as the other laughs loudly at his own attempt at a joke, and he pouts at him, shaking his head but unable to stop his lips from forming a grin._ Take this seriously and, just so you know, there's nothing graceful about you! 

_The latter part of his words make something in the other's eyes darken, the arms around him tightening as Akira whispers against his ear after leaning in, palms rubbing at his lower back._ Let me show you that I am. 

  


_They've left the tailgate open, clothes discarded as they lie on top of a pile of blankets on the rear end of their vehicle, shivering but not because they're out in the open with the heavens as their roof. Kouyou's legs are spread for Akira, his body being rocked back and forth by hard and slow pounds - languid, almost dreamlike, and he can't help but keen and beg._

Akira... please... faster... more...

_It's so painful and wonderful, that girth filling him to the brim repeatedly and hitting a spot inside him that makes everything turn a shade of white. Grasping at the other's shoulder blades, Kouyou feels the muscles moving beneath his grip, flexing sinew helping provide this immense pleasure that makes his body arch._

_And every thrust is the line of a haunting verse, the words that we've never said and refused to, even as we kissed and we fucked, fingers clawing at each other's sex-heated flesh digging deep, growing roots, never wanting to let go -_

  


love me  
miss me  
and then  
why not  
love me  
a little  
more?

  


_He can hear the car suspensions creaking with Akira's forceful movements, those hands guiding his thighs around his waist, his ankles crossed against the other's spine, and when he leans in and down, staring back with their mouths agape with harsh breaths and nearly touching, Kouyou feels like they've already said the words._

_Cupping that face with his palms, his eyelids fluttering with his incoming orgasm, he darts his tongue out to coax Akira's, but all the other does is pull away, pull out, before turning him in his stomach and penetrating again, fucking him while he's on his arms and knees._

_And the entire entire thing becomes debauched, none of Akira's intimate breaths or his passionate eyes, just the feel of his cock driving itself in and out of his ass, and maybe this is why whatever it is between them is only_ sometimes _called love._

Kouyou, fuck, fuck... fuck Kouyou...

_He bunches the sheets they snuck out of the hotel in his fists, moving back against the pounding as Akira goes faster and harder, seeking his release, and he cries out with every pound, eyes leaking with lustful tears while he reaches between his legs to help himself._

_And it's so good,_ it's so good-

  


_When they come, it's a complete mess of curses and semen and biting, and Kouyou falls limp as soon as he's done emptying himself over his hand, cheek pressed against scratchy fabric with Akira's teeth marks on his right shoulder, the roar of the sea drowned out by their gasping pants of air._

  


_And this can't become anything else but what it is, regardless of what it_ seems _like: just fucking, relieving each other -_ too good to be true. 


End file.
